The More Things Change
by Dora
Summary: Generation X's Jono Starsmore's parents are dead, and he's forced to go home for their funeral & to confront his past.


DISCLAIMERS/NOTES: Everyone with the exception of Gwen Cross belongs to Marvel Comics -- Gwen is property of Gabby. I wrote this for an RPG of mine when Jono Starsmore's estranged parents died and he was forced to go back to England in order to settle legal affairs, so don't think that I'm making money off of it. For reference, yes, the Jono in my RPG does have his face back due to an encounter with a temporal powerhouse that took his powers away. In layman's terms, he's human (or was, before I gave him his powers back ^_^).   


* * *

  
Rain in England was not an uncommon occurrence. More often than not, the damp weather of his homeland was inappropriate for the general mood. Today, he reflected, was one of those off days where the constant drizzle seemed fitting.   


Gray and wet, there'd been no color to his parents' funeral. Even the flowers placed graveside seemed wilted and dull. Jonothon Starsmore knew that were they capable of seeing the precession, his parents would have been horrified at the lack of pomp, the rain, their modest caskets. He quietly assumed that the only thing they would have been truly pleased with was his own appearance.   


Their mutant son -- not _too_ much to be ashamed of there -- the lazeabout Jonny that had wanted to be a musician but instead lost his pretty face and voice -- had left to stay with a lot of Yanks, then came back out of the blue three years after. He doubted that it was all too scandalous until the surprised looks and shocked gasps were factored in. Despite everything he said, having his face back was a joy like none other.   


He'd wanted to grin, and had fought the inclination throughout the entire service until he saw her. Gayle always had a knack for all but knocking him off his feet.   


She didn't stare as everyone else did, and he found that disconcerting. Instead, Gayle sat primly in her wheelchair, watching him with what Jono felt was a knowing gaze. To look at either of the ex-lovers was to see a formal face off. No one present could imagine that on any other day -- in another life, another world unfamiliar to theirs -- they were darker creatures of leather and punk rock.   


She was stunning as ever, he thought, and the next thing Jono knew, he was in a nearby pub, standing at a payphone while Gayle ordered drinks.   


"Angelo's Bordello of Spandex, hombre in charge speaking."   


Several continents away, Jono sighed in mingled amusement and relief. "Thought Emma told you to quit answering the phone."   


"Jono, hermano! She did, but since when did I listen when she wasn't threatening me with a whip? Get your package yet?"   


"What?" At their table, Gayle smiled his way and held up her beer. Jono studiously examined the floor.   


"Guess not. I'd tell you, but your little gato would prolly get upset if I ruined the surprise. How's Limeyland goin'?"   


"Fine. It's raining."   


"Sounds appropriate."   


"I'm with Gayle." He waited as his best friend went into the five minute cursing tirade as he'd expected, and busied himself in the meantime with the simple joy of breathing.   


"Dios... she's tried to _kill_ us, Jono!"   


"So'd your ex."   


Angelo had the smarts to drop that argument. "You fuck her yet?"   


"Such a sodding gentleman..."   


"I save the pretty words for the chicas, Jono. Quit avoidin' the question."   


"No, I haven't."   


"Good. Now keep it that way."   


"I thought you were the bloke what told me to get it wherever I could."   


"I was stoned at the time. 'Sides, I don't wanna have to be around for yet another pretty little heart to get crushed by those big fuckin' feet of yours."   


"Still got it for Paige, then?" He quipped back as always, but the serious mention of Gwen sobered him up. Gayle had been his world back during the self-destructive days. She wasn't anymore. Gwen had easily filled both Gayle's place, and Paige's.   


"Listen, hermano. I'm putting the life lesson down clear for you, okay?"   


"Yeah."   


"Gayle is to you what Torres is to me. And Gwen... I've seen the two of you together, and I'm seein' her without you now, Jono. She went and got stupid at a bad time... I'm pretty sure that she fell for you. You know, that 'L' word."   


Jonothon said nothing, too in awe of the possibility to speak. Angelo, on the other hand, continued effortlessly, and with a sharp edge that Jono had never heard directed his way before.   


"In fact, I'd bet my stash on it. And keep listenin' now, 'cause I won't be repeating myself. She's a sweet girl. If you wind up fuckin' Gayle, hermano, not only will I tear you a new one, but Gwen'll know. Not 'cause I'd tell her -- you're still my friend, fuckin' reject or not -- but because she's smart, and she sees things that most people don't.   


"So don't you go givin' in to your homones and ruining what could be a forever thing, you got me? That limey bitch of yours is seriously whacked, but Gwen's got _everythin'_ goin' for her in ways you're too damned stupid to see. You understand what I'm tryin' to say?"   


He nodded dumbly, not bothering to think that Angelo couldn't see his reaction back in Massachusetts. Sure, he really felt strongly about his relationship with Gwen, but when did the possibility of forever factor in? If Angelo was talking about it, he really must've had his head up his arse for the past few months...   


"Jono?"   


"I heard you. I'll keep it in mind."   


"Do more'n that, Jono... you can't afford to screw this one up, too." Angelo hung up before he could say anything else, leaving Jono with an intercontinental dial tone buzzing in his ear. He took a long moment in hanging up. Suddenly, getting out of the pub and to the safety of his hotel seemed very important. He didn't want to be alone, but he most certainly _needed_ to.   


"Jonny?" Gayle's voice broke through his mental fog and shook him back into reality. He hadn't even realized that he'd gone back to the table she'd claimed, but the curious, almost suspicious look she gave him when he placed several quid on the tabletop made them both realize what he was doing.   


"I need to go, Gayle."   


"You don't say... Why?"   


"Things to do, people to ring up."   


"Oh?" He tried not to twitch at the expression she wore. Was he _that_ easy to read?   


"Yeah."   


"Is she nice?"   


Jono nodded hesitantly, then with more conviction.   


"Nothing like me, then?"   


"No. You... you're one of a kind, luv."   


Gayle smiled widely in a way that was both inviting and told him to back away before he was left without several valuable body parts. "I can afford to keep waiting, you know. You still owe me for this." He successfully didn't wince when she gestured to her legs, didn't so much as blink, and Jono could hear Angelo making supportive noises somewhere at the back of his mind.   


"That's not going to change, Gayle. I ruined your life, I know that."   


"Only because you're good at what you do, Jonny. You're an artist that way." She dismissed him in a manner that spoke of royalty and the bloodlines she came from. Jono felt very sure that Monet would have been green with envy. "So go. There's always later. If she's smart, she'll run in the opposite direction."   


_That_ hurt, and there was no doubt in his mind that Gayle knew it. She struck to kill, always had. At one point, they both had. Jonothon asked himself what they'd become over the years -- what _he'd_ become -- but turned away before she could read that off of him, too.   


"Take care, Gayle." For a scant second, he waged an inward battle as to whether or not he should give in to habit and part with the biting sarcasm he was notorious for.   


"I hope that you'll find someone like her one day. Maybe then you'll finally be happy." He left off the additional "like we never were," but it hung in the air anyway, unspoken but still heard.   


Had he continued to watch her, he would have seen the wounded look Gayle responded with, the way her eyes glassed over with a second's worth of tears. If he had, Jono knew that he would've given in to her, that Angelo would have had his head, and Gwen would have been hurt.   


It was the thought of Gwen in tears that spurred him on, back to his parents' lawyer and the completion of his business in London. A few steps closer to home, Jono mused, and family. On his way, he wished for Gwen and his Fender, a new tune mentally penning itself while Jonothon walked by himself in the rain. 


End file.
